Moon's Flower (Kingdom, #6)

“Stop,” she chided. “No harm shall come to that fairy, Calanthe, is it?”


The very blood in his veins ran cold as ice as he snatched his hand away.

“Jericho, listen to me!” her voice rose in tenor. “I am telling the truth.”

“Then stop speaking in riddles and just tell me what they said,” he growled.

“They came to share a story, one I’m sure they thought would drive me mad. I will admit to being hurt, wounded, furious for a moment… but no longer. After days to think on it, I’ve realized one glaring truth. I held on to you too tight, I drove you away and the only way to bring you back to me again is to regain your trust.”

“Siria…”

“Calanthe has broken fairy law by…” she gulped, “lying with you.” Her eyes wouldn’t meet his.

She looked sincere, what his eyes were seeing—the grimace across her face, how her body was curved in on itself, as if wounded but trying to be fearless in her pain. And in his heart he wanted to believe her.

But Jericho was no fool. Siria had clung to him for two centuries with the thread of hope that someday their relationship could be what it once was. And over the years he’d learned to keep his thoughts to himself, because once when he’d dared to mention the beauty of the sylphs flying beneath their castle (angelic beings with wings of pure gold and heavenly voices) she’d cast down a jet of light so powerful she’d scorched their delicate wings to ash, forcing the poor creatures to forever walk the land, never again to know the freedom of the skies.

It was why he’d feared her ever discovering what he’d done with Calanthe. So to hear her now, tell him that this was alright with her, it didn’t make sense to him.

“And you’re saying you’re alright with that?” he asked incredulously.

The amber in her eyes blazed. “Of course, I’m not. It kills me to have discovered it. But,” she held up a bronzed hand and took a fortifying breath, “that’s when it dawned on me that if you love something, you cannot keep it caged. If you love it, you must set it free to decide for itself whether to stay. And I love you.”

If she was being honest, then he had no choice but to be so himself. “I love her.”

She flinched.

“And I do not say it to hurt you, Siria. I feel a great many things for you.”

She scoffed. “Scorn, apathy, regret…”

“No.” He grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips and planted a quick kiss. Her lips parted soundlessly. “Well, yes, at times I do.” He grinned weakly and she chuckled out a breath. “But these past two weeks proved to me that we can be friends again.”

She nodded. “It is why I’m being honest with you. Because, I will never stop holding out hope. But I also will not punish you for what I led you to do.”

He wanted to tell her that her anger and jealousy hadn’t forced him to fall in love with Calanthe. The fairy was his soul mate and he feared, as ungentlemanly as it might sound, that had he been with Siria already but seen Calanthe from afar he would have still gone to her. In this world there was only one great love and Calanthe was his, but he would not hurt Siria by telling her that either.

“Then are you giving us your blessing?”

She shrugged. “Do I have a choice?”

Jericho wished things were different, wished Siria hadn’t fixed her heart on his. But he also could not change what was. And he didn’t want to hurt her, but he feared in this, he always would because he would always choose his fairy.

“You always have a choice.”

Pulling their still clasped hands to her lips, she rubbed her cheek against his hand. “Then I choose your happiness.”

“Siria, I…” the words stuck in his throat, his tongue felt impossibly full and thick and he didn’t know what to say to her that wouldn’t wound her. So he shook his head and swallowed the thought and simply stood.

“May I have a kiss?” she asked with a voice so soft it was barely a whisper.

He licked his lips. A kiss, and then he was free to be with Calanthe and they could figure out how to get the fairy council to redact their antiquated edict. Then again, the thought of kissing Siria felt somehow wrong.

Rosebud lips tipped downward. “I understand, Jericho. Go to her then.”

And it was that understanding that was his undoing. He’d loved her once, for a time Siria had been his entire world and it was the memory of that love that made him move into her body.

Her breathing quickened as she planted her hands on his chest. “Are you sure?”

Tipping her chin up, he let the joy of getting to spend his free moments by Calanthe’s side without fear of hiding shine on his face. “Very,” he whispered and then took her lips.

She melted into his touch, her body soft and pliant in his arms. Her lips were bold and seeking and feverish and he sensed the hunger, her need for more.